Chapter 245

Old Man Whitmore collapsed in a fit of rage, and Aria Bennett’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

In her past life, this wretched man had pretended to be magnanimous while secretly plotting to hand the family business to her mother and brother. Now that his dirty secrets had been exposed in public, karma had finally caught up with him.

"Oh dear, how unfortunate," Aria feigned surprise, covering her mouth. "I didn’t realize the old man was so… fragile."

Damian Cross smoothly chimed in, "Well, being exposed for an affair with one’s stepdaughter would make anyone faint."

Tristan Cole, rarely one to agree, added dryly, "Passing out is the only way to save face at this point."

Vera Whitmore’s face twisted in fury as she struggled to lunge at Aria. Lucien Valmont’s expression darkened—he had never been humiliated like this in his entire life.

"Take her home," he said coldly to Miriam Whitmore. "The Valmont family has no use for such a disgraceful wife."

With that, he turned and walked away without so much as a backward glance.

Miriam trembled with rage. If her son-in-law left now, wouldn’t it confirm all the rumors?

Celine Valmont and her brother arrived just in time to witness the chaos.

"What happened to Grandfather?" Celine asked, only to hear murmurs ripple through the crowd.

"Grandfather? Shouldn’t you call him Daddy?"

"Tsk, tsk. A mother and daughter sharing a man—how scandalous."

Celine paled, while Miriam snapped, "Get him to the hospital, now!"

The society ladies exchanged knowing glances. The Whitmore women, who had always acted so refined, were nothing but filth beneath their polished facades.

Aria watched the spectacle with satisfaction. In her past life, these very people had reveled in her downfall. Now, it was their turn to taste the bitterness of public scorn—and this was only the beginning.

"The auction is about to start," she murmured.

Damian nodded in understanding. "Don’t let the trash ruin your mood."

As they descended, the banquet hall buzzed with gossip. The Whitmore scandal had spread like wildfire.

"Did you hear? Old Man Whitmore and his stepdaughter—"

"I always knew those two were rotten!"

The auctioneer’s gavel struck, gradually restoring order. Aria ran her fingers over her bidding paddle, her mood unusually light.

She had already instructed her mother to prepare the "evidence"—those incriminating photos taken by private investigators years ago. Once those circulated, Old Man Whitmore would never show his face in high society again.

"Next up, Lot 38: a millennium-old red coral..."

Without hesitation, Aria raised her paddle. Her mother had given her more than enough funds—she would secure this rare treasure to strengthen her brother’s constitution.

As for the Whitmores?

The show had only just begun.